Controlled Chaos
by lizzieafterdark
Summary: What would happen if the Doctor had decided that he couldn't bear to use the neural block on either Clara or himself? How would Clara and the Doctor's story continue? Diverges from canon at the end of Hell Bent.


**A/N:** **So: this starts at the corresponding scene in Hell Bent and from there veers sharply away from canon.**

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 **Disclaimer: I do not own** ** _Doctor Who_** **. No copyright infringement is intended by the writing and sharing of this story and I make no profits from either.**

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CONTROLLED CHAOS

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"So what happens now? Eh? Me and you, what do we do now?" (1) asked Clara, eyeing the neural block in the Doctor's palm with no small amount of wariness.

The Doctor followed her gaze with his own, frowning down at the piece of Time Lord-tech. He opened his mouth as if to say something but then seemed to think better of it, shaking his head in consternation. Suddenly, he reached a hand out to Clara, palm-up.

"Sunglasses please, Clara," he demanded, albeit gently. His companion fumbled with them for a second, uncertain, but upon looking into the Doctor's eyes and seeing the unwavering conviction there, she acquiesced and handed over the sonic specs.

The Doctor promptly slipped them on and fiddled with the temples and the frame for a moment as Clara watched in trepidation and Me, in curiosity. Then, he looked down at the neural block in his hand, tapped the frame of the glasses once more, and a series of wicked, vibrant electrical currents flowed through the device, crackling white and vivid blue, before they fizzled out, leaving it singed.

"There," the Doctor said lightly, turning his palm and letting the neural block fall to the floor of the console room with a clatter. "Now there are no polarities to reverse at all. It's completely fried. No longer a threat."

Clara's eyes were wide as saucers and Me's lips were pursed in disapproval.

The latter spoke first. "Doctor," warned the immortal woman, her tone foreboding, "You can't do this."

The Doctor ignored her, focused entirely upon his companion. "I'm sorry, Clara," he told her, and she felt even more bewildered.

"What for, Doctor? I don't understand." Clara's eyes pleaded with him, desperate for something, _anything,_ to start making sense.

"I was going to offer you a fifty-fifty chance—I'd take one end, you'd take the other, neither of us knowing which was active. And one of us would forget. It would've made sense, would've been right. But I can't," he explained in that rapid-fire way of his, and it was only years of practice following his techno-babble that allowed Clara to keep up with the Doctor now. His eyes pleaded, _begged_ Clara to understand, to pardon him. "I can't, because you're right. You _are_ entitled to your past, and I can't bear it, I can't bear the idea of creating another case like Donna, especially out of _you_."

Clara winced; she'd read the records on his past companions. Donna Noble's story'd had an especially painful ending, and if there had been any doubt of that pain in Clara's mind, it would have been erased by the anguish etched into every tired line of the Doctor's face now, by the way he'd already begun to lose control of his body as he spoke, arms gesticulating wildly as his roiling emotions made him into their marionette.

"And I refuse to forget you, Clara Oswald," declared the Doctor, unwittingly rolling the "r" in her given name as his accent thickened—a reminder of yet another lost companion. "I won't do it, no matter how much I should. It would be an unspeakable tragedy. To forget your brilliance, your frankly _astounding_ need to control, your kindness, your ruthlessness, your compassion, your determination...your smile, your _eyes_ : all of it? To have it be gone?! Just—"

As the Doctor became increasingly frantic, Clara rushed to him, grasping both of his arms firmly at the elbows and bracing them against his side.

"DOCTOR!" she shouted, desperate to snap him out of it. "Stop. Breathe." His pale, blue gaze met hers and he obeyed, sucking in a deep, gurgling breath. Clara loosened her grip and began to rub her hands up and down his arms in what she hoped was a soothing gesture. "I'm still here, Doctor," she told him quietly. "I'm not going anywhere yet. We have a bit of time to spare."

"No," spoke the cold, clear voice of Me. "You really don't, you know. Not here. Four minutes to the end of the universe, Doctor."

The Doctor turned his head to stare at Me and Me stared right back, the two ancient, immovable creatures at a sudden impasse.

"Then let's go," said Clara, breaking the silence. "Let's just go, Doctor, eh?" she said, her eyes glistening as she reached a hand up to cup his cheek, smiling at him fondly despite her teary state. "We've said our goodbyes, we've had our closure. Our time is up. You need to take me back, don't you?"

"No, Clara. I won't do it," the Doctor told her, laying his hand over hers before gently prying it from his face and kissing the back of her hand, just as he'd done back on Earth, before...well, before the Raven. "I won't lose you again, and _especially_ not like this."

"She's right, Doctor," Me cut in, merciless to the bitter end. "You know she is."

The Doctor twisted his torso and pointed at Me with his free hand, index finger jabbing the air harshly, eyebrows furrowed and mouth scowling. "You, _quiet,_ " he ordered, all restrained fury. "You've done enough as it is."

Me's eyes narrowed slightly, a faint, flickering echo of guilt passing through them. "I'm sorry, Doctor," she told him, disregarding his demand. "I know that I'm partially at fault for this, and the Time Lords as well, but that doesn't change the fact that Time won't heal until Clara returns to the trap street. She has to go back, and the sooner the better."

The Doctor opened his mouth to utter a scathing retort, but Clara held up a hand, silencing him. "Hold on," she said, her brown eyes even wider than usual and her voice breathless with realization. "What if there's a compromise?"

Both the Doctor and Me turned their attention to Clara, his gaze one of hopeful curiosity, hers one of disapproval. "What compromise?" they asked in unison, the Doctor glaring at Me, offended by her condescending tone. Clara cleared her throat and they refocused on her.

"What if I make a vow to the Council to return to Gallifrey and be restored to my timestream...when the Doctor dies?"

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(1) Quoted directly from "Hell Bent," episode 12 of series 9 of _Doctor Who_.

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 _Please let me know your thoughts on this first chapter if you can spare a moment! Thanks._


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